Meg Clothier has sailed from England to Alaska, worked as a journalist in London and Moscow, published two historical novels and run a London park cafe. She now lives, writes and grows vegetables on the Quantock Hills, but likes nothing better than getting cold, wet and hungry at the seaside, because then she can get warm and dry, drink gin and play Risk. Her brother, Chris Clothier, has sailed singlehanded from Scotland to Norway, found himself upside down in a yacht in the Southern Ocean and won countless dinghy races using all the deviousness he fails to bring to the Risk board. Nowadays, he lives in London where he keeps a weather eye on other people's money - when he's not daydreaming about kitesurfing for breakfast and barbecued mackerel for tea.
The sea. A place to live and work, a place to see and be seen. A place to run risks, a place to run away from it all. The sea is Rule Britannia - and two fingers up to authority. The sea is our bulwark, our barricade. Our playground, our larder. It is the songs and poems that drum deep in our collective consciousness. It is our island's joint inheritance, made as much from stories as sediment and saltwater. The sea is where we can breathe deep, fling our arms wide and look outwards to friendship, opportunity and adventure. -- Excerpt from the book